


Outranked

by fabricdragon



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Authority Challenge, Communication, Developing Relationship, Gen, Humor, Lack of Communication, Navy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 09:12:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13633239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabricdragon/pseuds/fabricdragon
Summary: Bond seems to be unable to accept Q's authority- Q tries to deal with it.  It's unorthodox, but it eventually works.based on a plot bunny by Danger_Zone24  in the 00Q fandom group on Facebook (Their idea went in an entirely different direction, but i borrowed the opening lines, and this work is gratefully dedicated to them)





	Outranked

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Danger_Zone24](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danger_Zone24/gifts).



Q wondered for the millionth time what was wrong with James Bond. Everyone else reacted well to his commanding voice, regardless if they were a minion or a Double-O, but not him.

It was funny when he was handling a mission and shouted at whoever was on the other side of the line, only to turn to find several people in his own branch scrambling to do what he had requested.

But every time Q used that tone of voice on James, it’d made his behavior worse. He was always doing the exact opposite of what Q wanted him to do–and this current mission was no exception, as it had been all but shot to the deepest, darkest pits of the lowest level of hell.

After an excruciating meeting in which they went over the problems of this mission, Q asked to speak to M in private.

“Yes, Quartermaster?” M said tiredly after they returned to his office.

“I am rather at a loss, Sir, with regards to 007. It seems like the more important it is for him to listen to me, the less he does so.”

“Hmm.” M looked thoughtful. “I’ve heard your voice on the coms, it’s very good­­–almost military, in fact."

“So? Wasn’t Bond in the Navy?”

“Yes, Commander Bond was in the Navy,” M smiled faintly. “Both Bond and I achieved the same equivalent rank, which I suspect is why Bond never listens to me even though–if we were both back in the forces–I’d outrank him, as I got promoted first.”

“So… wouldn’t my having a military command voice…”

“Your ‘commanding’ voice,” M said, “does indeed sound military.” He looked off at a few of the books on his bookshelf. “Perhaps he feels he should outrank you? You might sound like someone he outranks… Military command structure does get drilled into us all rather firmly, and if he has you set in his mind as a lesser officer…”

Q suddenly saw it. “He might bristle at being ordered around by someone he outranks?”

“It happens,” M nodded.

“I shall work on a solution, then,” Q nodded firmly. “Having a diagnosis of the problem always helps.”

“Good luck, Quartermaster.” M smiled faintly at him and then dismissed him and went back to paperwork.

…

Q pored over military papers. He studied sociology and public speaking. He went over Bond’s records until he probably knew them better than James did.

It helped a great deal… for everyone but Bond.

Oh, the Quartermaster’s department was running with an efficiency never seen before, and other agents began responding with even more alacrity–even the psych and medical departments started treating Q with more respect–but Bond? It seemed to get worse.

One odd thing to come out of it was that Q developed a fondness for military humor. Much to his shock, he found that it gave him some common ground with M and with many of the other older men, most of whom had served.

…

“Maybe if you traded military stories with Bond?” Eve Moneypenny suggested over lunch one day, right after Bond had taken his kit and gone out in the field–undoubtedly to return with half a paperclip worth of his equipment.

“I don’t have any.”

“I mean like the jokes, and some of the stories you’ve been trading with the other fellows? Maybe…”

“Ah… Develop some more comradery?”

“Yes. It might help.”

“It can hardly hurt,” grumbled Q.

Eve patted him on the shoulder and they both went back to work.

Late the next evening, Q was setting up the overnight shift when Bond called in.

“Testing call in.” Bond’s voice was relaxed–he was in a safe house, and just setting things up.

“Testing,” Q answered. “Calibrating pick up–can you hear me clearly?”

“Isn’t it past your bedtime, Quartermaster?” Bond’s voice shifted to the amused and faintly condescending tone that set Q’s teeth on edge.

Q took a deep breath and counted to three. “I’m having some trouble on this end with the pickup, Bond–”

“Stop wearing those awful cardigans–women like a bit more style,” Bond retorted immediately.

“Trust you to make an innuendo out of everything, Bond,” Q sighed. “Look, can you just talk for a few minutes? At a normal speaking voice?”

“What do you want me to say? I could go on about your cardigans…”

Q sagged into a hand over his face briefly before pulling himself together, “How about military humor? Naval stories? Something like that.”

“…Whatever interest would you have in that?”

“I was never in the military, Double-O Seven, because my value to the nation is right here on the computer and handling your equipment!”

“You couldn’t handle my equipment,” Bond retorted. Q suspected it was reflex, since it had very little emphasis.

There was a pause as Bond realized he might have gone a bit far.

Q very deliberately said, “If you treat THAT equipment with the same care you show the equipment I entrust you with, it’s badly broken and probably missing a few critical bits. Now, can you please just talk in a tone as if you were carrying on a conversation while I calibrate this?”

Bond chuckled, “Alright, I suppose I deserve that.” He cleared his throat and started moving around the room, walking as he talked.

“This is an old one…

“A battle ship was on exercise at sea in very bad conditions: after dark, and it was foggy and miserable. The Captain was on the bridge when they spotted a light from another ship. The Captain asked if it was steady or moving. The lookout replied the light was steady, meaning they were on direct collision course with that ship! The Captain ordered the lookout to signal to the other ship.”

Bond put on a rather pompous tone: _“Change course 20 degrees to Port. We are on collision course.”_

Bond adopted a higher pitched voice, “The signal came back _‘Advise you to change your course immediately.’_

“Well, the Captain was almost struck dumb at the audacity, but he figured they didn’t know who they were dealing with, so he signaled _‘I am a Captain. Change course 20 degrees Starboard!’”_ Bond practically snapped command in the tone: Q found himself sitting up straighter.

“The reply came back _, ‘I am a Seaman Second Class. Change your course 20 degrees to Port.’”_

Bond chuckled faintly, “The Captain was furious–how DARE this petty Seaman tell him what to do! He sent back _‘I am a battleship. Change course!’”_

“ _‘I am a lighthouse. Your call.’”_

Q burst out laughing into the coms. “You missed your calling in stand up! That was well done… I could picture them.”

Bond did seem in a relaxed mood, so Q thought Eve’s suggestion might be a good one. “How is the calibration?” asked Bond.

“Done on this end. Would you care to have me tell you a joke to test out your earpiece?”

“As long as it’s not a computer joke…”

“Ah, no, I have been rather trading amusing anecdotes with some of the military folks… How about one of those?”

“Shoot.”

Q went through his favorites. “Would you like a logistics joke or a personnel joke?”

“Personnel,” Bond replied. “Logistics jokes sound too much like math homework.”

“Alright…” Q thought about which of the jokes would likely appeal to Bond… _OH! His last name habit from the Navy_ … Q cleared his throat and started:

“The Master Chief noticed a new Seaman one day and barked at him to come into his office. ‘ _What is your name?_ ’

“‘ _John_ ,’ the seaman replied.

“The Master Chief scowled, ‘ _Look, I don't know what kind of bleeding-heart, liberal pansy stuff they're teaching sailors in boot camp today, but I don't call anyone by their first name. It breeds familiarity and that leads to a breakdown in authority. I refer to my Sailors by their last name only–Smith, Jones, Baker–that's all, and I am to be referred to only as “Master Chief.” Do I make myself clear?’_

“The poor Seaman snapped out a precise, ‘ _Yes, Master Chief!_ ’

“ _Good! Now that we got that straight, what is your last name, Seaman?_ ’

“The new guy sighed and said, ‘ _Darling. My name is John Darling, Master Chief!’_

_“‘Okay, John, the next thing I want to tell you is...’”_

Bond burst out laughing. “Oh, that’s a good one!”

“Thank you, Bond. I’ll be on the coms when your mission is active, if at all possible. Signing off.”

“Signing off.”

…

All hope that something as simple as an exchange of some humor would help with their relationship on the coms was shot to hell during the next mission.

Q kept trying to give him advice, based on the intelligence intercept and the electronics, and Bond kept ignoring him–basing his reactions on the situation he could see in front of him.

Bond was moving steadily behind a barricade, stealthily moving around obstacles, and Q could see that this would lead him directly into a far worse problem.

“You need to cut left there, Bond.”

“That’s right across open view!” Bond hissed back, continuing.

“Yes, it is, but what’s in front of you is worse.”

“You don’t understand the situation you spotted, infant…” Bond grumbled under his breath. “I’m actually in the field, you aren’t.”

Q felt like time slowed to a crawl. Bond was old, military, he’d risen to the rank of Commander and then become one of the longest serving Double-Os in history… Of COURSE he objected to taking orders from someone Q’s age–it must be like trying to obey orders from a… Q smiled suddenly.

“I’m a lighthouse, Battleship. Your call.”

Bond’s signal stopped moving. After a short while–that felt longer–it cut left across the open while Q did his best to distract the guards electronically.

A very long while later–and several moments where it would all have gone to hell fast if Bond hadn’t actually done what Q told him to get around the guards–he was out and clear.

“You’re on your own, Battleship,” Q cracked his neck and shoulders as he sat up. “I don’t have eyes on you anymore until you get back to the rendezvous.”

“Understood, Lighthouse.” Bond’s voice was tired but had a trace of amusement “Good direction there.”

“Thank you. Safe travels, signing off.”

“Signing off.”

Q pulled the earbug out and was putting his head down on the desk when a hand suddenly clapped him on the shoulder–he jumped.

“Good job, Quartermaster.” M nodded down at him.

“Thank you, Sir…”

“You seem to have gotten your difficulties with Bond worked out,” M shook his head. “Any advice for me?”

“I suspect it is, in fact, a combination of your being of near equal military rank, and the fact that you are replacing the old M… and… well…”

M nodded. “I doubt anyone could fill her shoes–especially with him.” He looked thoughtfully at Q, “The prior Quartermasters were all quite a bit older, and Boothroyd was military on top of that.”

Q smiled, “Indeed, Sir. But as you said, I think… I think we have it worked out–or at least beginning to be.”

M nodded, “Go home and get some sleep. It’s morning already here.”

“I had wondered why you were in.” Q checked his watch and blinked. “Oh…”

He had a driver take him home and promptly fell into bed. _Now if only I can get him to actually bring any of his equipment back in one piece…_

When he got back into work–having slept through that day–he was informed that Bond had been brought in and rushed straight to medical.

“Over his protests, I have no doubt,” Q nodded at Eve.

She nodded, “But he insisted I give you a box: I left it on your desk.”

Q went down to his office and stared at the box on his desk with some trepidation. Inside was a pile of equipment–well, the remains of it–and a note:

_“Did you actually set that up so that I had to turn 20 degrees to Port? It’s driving me mad…”_

Q blinked and went over the mission in his head, staring down at the paper in his hands…

“Oh… It was, wasn’t it?” Then he grinned to himself, “Let him wonder.”

**Author's Note:**

> I may continue this someday, i may not. i hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
